Debts and Accounts
by starry19
Summary: "And, after a lot of effort, he had even managed to coax a smile from Lisbon. Those were very rare these days, in general. Smiles at him were virtually nonexistent. Usually, she just looked at him with heartbreak, masked with annoyance and anger. But tonight, in the midst of working a case, he'd finally succeeded in getting her to show her dimples." - Happy New Year! Jane/Lisbon


**AN**: I had actually requested someone else write a New Year's story, but then I heard the song "Long December," and I couldn't help myself. In fact, that song is the entire soundtrack to this story.

More "Broken Glass" soon, so this is angst free. Kind of. It ends happily, at least! I'm in the middle of about four stories right now, including a sequel to Burnt Offerings, so I'm trying not to kill myself off. It's not working.

No alliterative title. I think I've let myself down.

**Debts and Accounts **

Since Angela and Charlotte had died, he had spent New Year's Eve as a day of accounting. What had he lost? What had he gained?

His immediate answers tended to be _everything_ and _nothing_.

But then he would think, honestly think, and his answers became a little more complex.

The first year without them had been awful. He didn't specifically remember New Year's. In fact, there were more days he'd forgotten then ones he could recall. It was probably better that way.

The second year without them was the first he had been at CBI. What had he gained? Something akin to a purpose, he supposed. Lisbon's SCU team was cautiously friendly, and Lisbon herself was somewhere between being a mother and an anchor. It was nice to feel like he was doing some good in other people's lives, considering the state of his own.

The next several years passed in much the same manner. Generally speaking, he tended to be melancholy on holidays, but he had discovered that he had always gained something worthwhile by the end of the year.

Rigsby's trust, a rare smile from Cho, a flirtatious exchange with Lisbon. Sometimes, if he was very lucky, he managed to relive a good memory of his family, or he felt like he had taken a step forward in regards to catching the bastard who had taken them from him.

After Grace had joined the team, he gained her determination to include him in her heart. She was naïve enough to automatically love all of her team members, but he knew she made a special effort with him, considering he was basically the antithesis of everything she believed in.

Lisbon had gotten on his case about pushing Van Pelt's buttons once, and it led to a very lively exchange that he added to his list of profits. She really was adorable when she argued with him.

That was something else, too – the ability to finally see Lisbon as a woman, as a romantic figure. He didn't know which column to put that in. In some ways, he felt like he was betraying Angela. On the other hand, it meant he was starting to gain a little of his life back.

Some years it was easy to see what he had lost. Jared Renfrew, Kristina Frye. The ability to say that he'd never shot anyone. Later, he'd had to add the words _in cold blood_ to that last statement.

This year, however, he was trying to focus on what he'd won.

He knew who Red John was. He just had to narrow it down. The end, if not in plain sight, was certainly approaching around the next several bends.

And, after a lot of effort, he had even managed to coax a smile from Lisbon. Those were very rare these days, in general. Smiles at him were virtually nonexistent.

Usually, she just looked at him with heartbreak, masked with annoyance and anger.

But tonight, in the midst of working a case, he'd finally succeeded in getting her to show her dimples.

No one liked working on New Year's Eve. Virtually everyone in the free world was drunk, and those that weren't certainly wished they were.

A state senator's son had been found shot to death in an alley, however, so the revelry would have to wait for the SCU team.

He'd shown up thirty or so minutes after Lisbon, having been in the middle of some research on another name in his notebook.

She did not look pleased at his tardiness.

"I'm sorry, Jane," she bit out. "I know it's very inconvenient when your job gets in the way of lurking in the attic."

Ah, and she had her claws out, too.

"What do we have, Lisbon?" he asked, doing his best to look interested in the dead body sprawled on the damp pavement.

She rattled off the standard information with annoyance in her tone. He was still only half listening, looking around the scene with his usual attention. His mind noted that one of the victim's shoes was untied, and that he was still wearing what looked to be a real Rolex.

"Thoughts?" Lisbon prompted, barely concealed impatience seeping into her words.

"I think he's having a terrible New Years," he replied. "And he was surprised and dragged out here, where someone who was very angry at him for some reason shot him. Not for money, obviously, so I'd guess it involved a woman."

Her mouth was set in a grim line. "Yeah, I figured that much."

His lips quirked. "Did you? Well, I'm very proud of you, Lisbon."

"I don't need you to be proud of me," she snapped. "I need you to do your damn job."

His expression was wary. She was still very angry at him. "I was under the impression that my job was to catch killers you couldn't."

"Your _job_," she bit out, "is to consult on cases. On _all_ cases, Jane, not just the ones you feel like working on. You know, when you can pull yourself away from investigating everyone you've ever met."

There was a moment when he considered reminding her of _why_ he worked with the CBI in the first place, but he refrained. A muscle twitched in his cheek. He wished he knew _exactly_ the thing that was setting her over the edge.

"Not everyone," he reminded her. "You're off my list."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, good for me. How much research did you have to do to clear me?"

He supposed it was a rhetorical question, but he answered it just the same. "None," he said quietly.

For just an instant, her emerald eyes softened, but then she retreated back into herself. "Very reassuring." She let out an angry sigh. "You know, I expect you to show up at crime scenes when you're called. I know you think what you're doing is the right thing, but I hope the cost isn't more than you can handle."

"The cost?" he repeated, starting to get annoyed himself. "What does that even mean, Lisbon? I suppose the cost might be that you'll have to use some of the detective skills you're always going on about instead of just relying on me."

It was a low blow, and he knew it. Almost immediately, he regretted it, but there was no way to take it back.

Her eyes looked bruised, and she struck back. "You can go to hell," she hissed. "We'll keep solving cases, _without_ your help. But what's going to happen when you've screwed up and need someone to save you? What are you going to do if I'm not willing to stick my neck out for you, _again_? Do you think there's anyone else that'll do it for you?"

It was her turn to be distinctly hurtful. No, he knew very well that there was no one else willing to stand by him. Truly, she was all he had.

He had no idea what his expression looked like, but her face lost some of its anger. When she spoke next, her voice was softer. "I have always been willing to help you, Jane, often against my better judgment. But you won't let me in now. And I'm tired of being your safety net."

She turned, eyes finding Cho in the crowd, then making her way towards him, leaving her words hanging in the air.

The idea that she would turn her back on him was startling, unsettling, and deeply disturbing. For all the times he'd engaged in some mad scheme, harmless or otherwise, he had always known that Lisbon would go to bat for him when it came time to play ball.

His world might have been built on some strange foundations, but they were still foundations, and if he didn't have Lisbon, the ground started to shake.

He brushed his hurt aside for the moment and sorted through her words.

_You won't let me in now_.

There was more to that statement than just his recent list of men he'd shaken hands with. He suspected it started (and ended, probably) with Las Vegas.

She had been deeply wounded that he hadn't told her what he was doing. And then the whole…mess…with Lorelei.

Yes, he'd done a pretty good job of alienating her, hadn't he?

How far was he willing to push her? How far was she willing to go for him? He'd given her literally nothing, especially lately.

What he needed, he decided, was a gesture of goodwill. He wanted to get back to where they were before he left, to his policy of (mostly) full disclosure when it came to what he was up to, especially about Red John.

Otherwise he was going to be forced to put Lisbon in the _loss_ column for the year.

He'd never had to do that before.

It would cancel out what he'd gained. _More_ than cancel out.

Thoughtfully, he chewed on the inside of his cheek. He stuck his hands in his pockets, fingers brushing against the hard cover of his notebook.

Inspiration struck.

Quickly, he wandered out of the crime scene, hopefully avoiding Lisbon's gaze. He made a quick stop at the drug store across the street, then dug for a pen in the Citroen.

Within another hour, the team headed back to the office, Lisbon still refusing to speak to him. Or even look at him, for that matter.

He beat everyone there, quickly picking the lock on her office. Setting her present down on her desk, he headed up to the attic.

Hopefully, she would find him there.

Or, maybe, she wouldn't.

He tried to imagine what her reaction would be. The last time he'd given her a present, it required hay and a bridle.

His notebook was sitting on her keyboard with a pink bow on it. On the first page was sticky note. _Consider yourself let in_, it read.

It was sort of hokey, he knew, but it was the only thing he could come up with on such short notice.

He pushed a smile back when he heard her footsteps approaching. What he didn't expect were her tears.

"Lisbon?" he asked, noting the small book was held in her hand.

She swallowed once, hard, then threw her arms around him.

Caught off guard, he took a step backwards, then steadied himself, returning her embrace. Her grip was tight, almost fierce.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, running one hand down her back.

She sniffed, then pulled away. "Thank you," she whispered, holding out the notebook.

He frowned as his hands closed around it. "What's this for?" He studied her face. "I didn't include a gift receipt, Lisbon. You're stuck with it."

She shook her head. "I don't need it."

He knew what she meant. The fact that he'd actually given it to her in the first place was the important part of the gesture. _I trust you_, was the implicit meaning. He'd said it before, but this time, he had found a way of actually showing it.

He smiled.

She took a deep breath. "You know I'll always be there for you, right?" she asked, not quite looking him in the eye. "No matter what I threaten you with when you tick me off?"

"I know." His grin widened. "But it's nice to hear, nonetheless."

Slowly, carefully, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Don't give up on me yet," he said.

She shook her head. "I won't."

He straightened, then smiled broadly. "Well?" he asked. "Shall we go catch a killer? Start the new year off right, and all of that?" Impulsively, he offered her his arm. To his great surprise, she took it, lips turned up.

"Oh, absolutely."

She released her hold on him just before they made it to the stairs, and he smiled, a little regretfully.

"Is this murder ruining your big plans for the night?" he asked lightly.

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

He widened his eyes innocently. "No need to be bitter, Lisbon. I'm sure someone around here could be coaxed into kissing you at midnight."

She stared at him, cheeks going slightly red. He could almost see the gears in her mind turning, trying to extricate herself from the conversation. "Shut up, Jane," she said dismissively.

He tried to suppress a chuckle. "Be careful who you're standing next to when the clock chimes twelve," he warned.

Lisbon gave him glare meant to inspire terror. "If you're within five feet of me," she said, "I'll punch you."

Her expression was serious, but he saw her pulse speed up in the base of her neck. Oh, now that was very interesting indeed.

Smiling, thoroughly intrigued, he paused to let her enter the stairwell first. With a little maneuvering, he figured he could get her into her office at just the right time.

They crossed the fourth floor landing, and in the soft lights, he could see her smiling as she turned. Hugely smiling, in fact.

In his mind, he added _kissing Lisbon_ to the Things I've Gained column. In bold letters. And italics.

And perhaps, if he was very lucky, he could add the word _twice_.

**AN: **Alright, they might have been a touch OOC, but whatever.


End file.
